Brandon shrugged. “She thinks she was abandoned.”
Genevieve looked at the dog doubtfully. “By someone in town?”
“No, by someone passing through. They agree on that part.”
“But who would abandon a dog like this?”
They settled in at one of the tables where Brandon had a clear view of the register. The cafe itself was deserted. “Lots of reasons,” he said. “Maybe they lost their home or job and couldn’t afford a dog. You can’t imagine how much this girl eats.” He’d lilted his voice toward the dog and her ears perked up, as if she knew he was discussing her. She gave one quick sharp bark.
Smiling, Genevieve tore off a bit of her own muffin and held it out. “Well, what’s wrong with a girl who likes to eat?” she crooned. “A dog after my own heart.”
Brandon wrapped his hands around his mug. “My mom says we’ll give it another few days, but that’s it.”
“What?” Genevieve said indignantly. “You mean, take her to a shelter?”
“Before my dad gets more attached,” he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “He’s allergic, remember?”
They looked sadly down at the dog, and then Genevieve said, “Still, she needs a name, even if she’s only here a few days.”
Brandon frowned. “No. Charlotte wanted to, but my mom said naming her would create an attach—”
“Then I’ll do it,” Genevieve said. “You can’t keep calling her ‘dog.’”
“Why don’t you ask your dad, if no one comes for her—”
“Even if he allowed it,” Genevieve interrupted, “I’m never home, you know that. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“That won’t be the case next year,” Brandon pointed out. “Unless you’ve changed your mind and are actually considering going away to college?”
Genevieve balked. “Of course not! I just meant... I’ll be working more at Sweet Dreams, you know.”
Brandon grinned at her slyly. “Not if Tyler what’s his face succeeds in his dastardly plan to usurp your position as master scoop.”
Genevieve swatted him across the table. “Shut up, I’m trying to think of names.”
Brandon sipped his coffee in silence while she pondered aloud. “Goldie?” she murmured. “Sunshine?” She drummed her fingers on the table, then suddenly laughed. “I know. How about Butterscotch?”
Brandon rolled his eyes. “Of course you’d pick a dessert flavor.”
But the dog had leaped up at Genevieve’s excitement and began prancing in a circle, her toenails clicking on the tile, and even Brandon had to laugh.
“I guess she likes it,” he said.
Genevieve brushed her hand across her shirt in a gesture of snobbish pride, and then snickered. The distraction of Hidden Treasures and the stray dog had brightened her mood even more than her “Bad Day Sundae.” She and Brandon chatted for another few minutes, and she was grateful to her best friend that he chose not to bring up the exchange with Ms. Pierce earlier, which she’d told him after school she really didn’t want to talk about.
When Genevieve’s phone buzzed on the table between them, she glanced at the message, sighed, and drained her cup of tea. “Time to go,” she said. “The diabolical master scoop just graced us with his presence.”
She waved goodbye to both of them and headed back to work, feeling less than enthusiastic about another closing shift with Tyler and hoping that this time he didn’t smash any of her dishes.
The next morning in Econ neither Miss Love nor Ms. Pierce showed up. Instead, to everyone’s surprise, Mr. Mattison, their balding, stern-faced principal, shuffled awkwardly into the classroom. He was balancing a stack of folders and a very large mug of coffee.
“Greetings, class,” he said with stiff formality. “Unfortunately, the office has been unable to contact a sub this morning, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” He moved to put the stack of files on the already crowded desk and the top of the stack began sliding. He lunged to catch the files and ended up sloshing hot coffee over the sleeve of his white Oxford button-down shirt (which was ironed to perfection, Genevieve noted with approval). “Shoot!” he barked, and a few students snickered.
Principal Mattison slammed the folders and the mug down and spun to face the class, apparently preparing to scold them, but instead his shoulders sagged, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is going to be a long day,” he muttered, and Genevieve felt a stab of sympathy. That was how she had felt lately, facing shifts at Sweet Dreams with her new closer, who last night had skulked around the shop like a bad impression of Frankenstein’s monster.
“Excuse me, sir,” Genevieve said, raising her hand. “Where exactly is Miss Love? We all miss her.” Several students murmured their agreement.
He began shuffling the papers on the desk. “That is very kind of you all, very thoughtful. I’m sure Miss Love would appreciate knowing that. As it were, I have no knowledge of her return anytime soon, and why, I cannot say.”
There was a burst of conversation amongst the students, and the principal held up his hand for silence. He snapped out a sheet of paper. “Oh, here we are,” he said, and began to take roll. Genevieve studied him with disappointment.
What did he mean, he had no knowledge of her return anytime soon? Did that mean she meant to return? Or had she resigned her position and he just wasn’t saying?
“Excuse me, Mr. Mattison?” She raised her hand again.
Without looking up, the principal said, “Yes, Miss Winterland.”
“I just wondered… we were told Ms. Pierce may be staying on a while—”
Now he did look up at Genevieve, and she saw a flash of something in his eyes—apprehension? Concern.
“As I stated before,” he said, “the office has been unable to contact any of our subs this morning.”
A teacher’s assistant from across the hall entered the room and offered to take the roll call sheet to the office.
“Very good. Thank you, James,” the principal said appreciatively.
